In the River
by Saint Lonely
Summary: Belyn, an orphan living in Belisaere, searches for her parents. She dreams about them, and the past 200 years before she was born. MAJOR Abhorsen spoiler!! Please review! This is my first Garth Nix fic! CHAPTER 6 UP!!!! (PG13 for... scenes.)
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: Here, the Destroyer, Kibeth, and Yrael belong to Garth Nix. The rest are based on the seven, though their names have been changed. And remember, it's set IN THE PAST!

WARNING: This has a MAJOR Abhorsen spoiler in the prologue, so if you haven't read or finished Abhorsen, do NOT read this! (Unless, of course, you'd like the book to be ruined.) 

__

Deep down in a valley, some two hundred years ago, two silver hemispheres were joined together, blowing away three shaky diamonds of protection. An evil, eerie, haunting voice rang out across the fields sending shivers up and down the spines, or what was left of them, of all who heard. 

"Free again, you fools. When shall the seven of you realize that I, the Destroyer, cannot be held inside these silver half spheres? Not now, not never! Now, I shall beat your worthless Charter magic and reek death and destruction over these lands for once!"

A circle of seven had formed around the Destroyer, flinching at his words. Mayu, the Abhorsen-in-Waiting, spoke first. "I am Mayu, and I stand against you for Astarael." The raven-haired woman dressed in a purple surcoat drew a Charter mark in the air for binding. Her long, pale fingers drew it perfectly, winding the curves with grace, while her right hand grasped the wooden hands of the bell.

Her words brought courage to the remaining six, and another raven-haired woman spoke next. "I am Kirra, and I stand against you for Saraneth." She brought her hand up, her wrist brushing the bandolier of bells, marking her the Abhorsen with a blue surcoat identical to Mayu's, and she traced the binding mark into the air.

"I am Tomis and I stand against you for Belgaer," spoke a young man of barely twenty. His surcoat was that of a Wallmaker and his nimble hand drew the mark quickly, skilled with his slender fingers.

"I am Sira and I stand against you for Dyrim," another raven beauty who looked remarkably like the Abhorsen. She held the stance of a princess, though she wore no crown. She removed her hand from the sword resting in its hilt, and she drew the binding mark in front of her chest with care. 

"I am Kibeth, and still, I stand against you for myself," said a blackened and tanned dog. Charter marks coursed through her body, and when the right one was found, she barked it into the air, keeping beat for the remaining standing against the Destroyer. 

"We are Alla and Systire, Clayr, and we stand together against you for Mosrael," they chorused together. The were twins, tanned with long blonde hair dressed in whitened robes. They moved as one, each drawing their own Charter mark, then merged them together silently with monocular motions. 

"I am Markan, King of the Old Kingdom, and I stand against you for Ranna." The King drew his Charter mark boldly, as only a king can do. His elbow rested on the tip of his sword, ready to strike. 

He rang his bell first, casting the need to sleep over all who listened. The six of his circle fought the drowsiness and one by one, chorused their bells along with the King's. The twinned Clayr rang theirs together, and the dog barked in tune with the bells. The princess's shaking hand steadied and sang true with those ringing. The Wallmaker's face masked defiance as he blended in Belgaer. The Abhorsen held Saraneth steady and looked straight on to the Destroyer without fear. 

The Abhorsen-in-Waiting held Astarael, the Sorrowful. Without the other bells singing, she would send those who heard her into Death, including the ringer. Smiling a knowing smile, she rang the largest bell and created a sorrow deeper than all others made in the past. 

Seven Charter marks flared and fought against the Destroyer, Orannis, who fought back with the strength of Free Magic. The ringers tasted the metallic taste of the destructive magic in their mouths, but they kept fighting it. 

There came a shout from the Wallmaker, and as he shouted, he held a small red ring in his up stretched hand, and still he rang Belgaer. "Be free Mogget! Choose wisely!"

A bright light flashed, nearly blinding the ringers. They shielded their eyes as their bells still rang, and the Destroyer was surprised. "I am Yrael, and I stand against you for myself."

"Yrael! Why?" screamed Orannis, beginning to fear his end again. 

"I shall stand against you as long as you destroy. I cannot let you hurt innocent souls. I -"

Yrael's speech was cut short, for Mayu took this moment to strike the Destroyer with a bloodied sword. Charter marks flared on the sword through the coat of blood, and with Mayu's strength, cut through Orannis cleanly. 

"No!" the Destroyer screamed as the hemispheres began to tug his halves back inside them. Yrael's voice sung a song, and then Ranna chimed in, followed by Mosrael, Dyrim, Belgaer, and Saraneth. Kibeth barked the same notes, and Mayu finally swung Astarael. 

With that final tune, the Destroyer was locked under layers of silver. There was another blinding light, and a force that sent the circle of seven to the ground. Kibeth walked into Death, leaving behind nothing but her scent and a soapstone statue, the figure and face hers. Yrael took the red ring from the Wallmaker's hands, and tugged it back over what seemed to be his neck. His figure changed into that of an albino man, and then contracted into a tiny white cat. 

Mayu staggered over to where the Dog had lain, and collapsed, taking in the scent of the dog. She gripped the soapstone statue, rubbing her thumb over it, to remember the Dog. Kirra stood over her sister, waited as she spilled tears on the soil, and finally helped her up onto her feet. Mayu slipped the statue into her surcoat and felt the warmth of it through the cloth against her skin.

The remaining six plus the white cat stood and walked together towards an army of Ancelstierrian soldiers. Their diamonds of protection were still marked by lighter snow, and a battered young man lay inside the remains of one. 

He appeared dead, and was thought to be as such. But as the weary six walked past, he opened an eye and looked up at them. The Wallmaker, Tomis, looked down at his friend longingly until he saw the open eyes and breathing lungs. He realized then no longer felt the presence of his dead soul. 

"Briesh?" Tomis asked, amazed, as he knelt next to the wounded body. Briesh nodded weakly and tried to sit up. His body wouldn't respond good enough, so Tomis helped his friend into a comfortable sitting position. 

"Tomis." Briesh croaked. His tongue was caked in dried blood, as was the rest of his face. Tomis laid his hands on his friend's chest and spoke the Charter marks for healing, felt them rolling through his palms and into Briesh. Tomis watched the wounds heal and finally seal. 

Briesh, though still weak, stood with his friend's help, and looked to the approaching Mayu. Tears glistened in her eyes, the shine brought from the sun peeking though storm clouds. "Briesh… I..."

Briesh motioned to her for silence, and he took her hands in his. "Mayu, thank you for encouraging me to never give up. I owe my life to you. And to my dream dog. She sent me back into Life."

"Dog?" Mayu said, smiling gratefully, tasting salty tears run down her cheeks. Briesh nodded. Mayu sobbed, a happy sob, and closed her eyes against the tears. 

Briesh brought his hand up to Mayu's cheek, watched her open her eyes. "Mayu, I... I love you." The raven-haired beauty's face lit up, shining brighter than the sun. Relief washed over her, and she was able to finally let go of everything.

Briesh wrapped his arms around Mayu's thin waist, and she supported him on his weak feet. He brought his mouth down on hers, and kissed her lips. Tenderly, at first, and then into a growing passion of young lovers…

A/N: Yeah, I know, it's a lot like the ending of Abhorsen. I promise it will be more original, but this it just leading into it. Please review! Tell me if there's anything to fix!


	2. Chapter One

Disclaimer: The characters in Abhorsen, Sabriel, and Lirael all belong to Garth Nix. The plot and any characters you don't remember from the books are mine.   
  
A/N: The prologue was set about 200 years before the events in the Old Kingdom trilogy took place, for those of you who were confused. This is set in the future now, about 16 years after the binding and breaking of the Destroyer at the end of Abhorsen. What happened to the characters of Abhorsen after that may be twisted into this story.   
  
  
  
A tall, raven-haired girl stood inside the market of Belisaere. She walked occasionally, but mostly eyed what the merchants were selling, and longed for what she once had. Or at least, what she thought she had. Her past was unknown, and she often wished for a mother and a father - a normal life.   
  
She was clad in a gray robe, threadbare and full of holes. Her hair was tangled and oily, specks of dirt and other rubble hung in the knots. Her feet were blistered, bloody and muddy; her ankles scratched and bruised. She carried smears of dirt on her cheeks and a shame in her emerald green eyes.  
  
The rush of sea water could be heard from her place in the market. Seagulls sounded in the distance, and ships' crews sang sailor's songs. The girl sang them in her head, the days and days of standing in the marketplace and listening burned into her mind. Some days, when she could hear nothing but the gulls' songs, she pretended she could talk to them, and that she had a flock of friends.  
  
Merchants stood under covered booths, the sun's rays not reaching their skins while she stood in flames, her sunburned skin being burnt again. They gossiped together, their jewels and meats too good for the rest. They looked at her, the orphan who walked the streets and smiled their superior smiles at her unclean body.   
  
"Look at that orphan, Malger." one of the wealthy merchants scoffed. "Look at that dirty face, and the rags she's wearing. She's a disgrace to a great city like Belisaere."  
  
His friend grinned. "I've seen her here before. She's in the market a lot. Watch your jewels, Lakin, she's eyeing your precious stones." The jewel merchant stood up straight, glaring at the orphan girl. Malger, smiling, walked back to his booth to watch over his expensive fish.   
  
The orphan girl hung her head, subject again to the torture from the merchants. The market was the only place she knew, and she was too scared to venture out. She'd heard stories of other places, of wild men and thieves. The market seemed safest. So here she would stay, ignoring the rich merchants who looked down upon her.  
  
Malger's face lit up as he watched the filthy girl drop her head. His words had brought her down, but he had plans to do much more than that. He motioned to Lakin, the jewel merchant, and signaled for him to watch.  
  
"Orphan girl! Yes, you," Malger yelled, and the girl's head popped up. "Come here." She stumbled over on her bloody feet and Malger wondered if she could speak his language. "I've been watching you, and I was wondering…" He put on a fake, sweetened tone, and pretended as if he was interested in her.   
  
Malger stroked a finger against he mud caked cheek, looking into her shameful eyes. She looked down, and a tinge of red crept into her skin. She'd never been touched by a man like this, and especially not a rich merchant. Malger's touch cracked the dried mud, pieces of it caught in her long raven hair, the rest falling at her feet.   
  
"I've been wondering… if you'd like to come to my ship later. We could talk, or I could interest you in other things," Malger said, and he brushed his fingers of the girl's lips. To his surprise, they were full, perfectly shaped lips, moist and enjoyable to the touch. The girl, catching onto his words, stepped back and away from his touch. She cleared her throat, and then finally spoke.   
  
"I cannot. Wouldn't be right for a merchant like you to associate with a dirty orphan like me, would it?" The girl's voice was that of a teenager just barely into womanhood, but the voice was perfectly blended. It held the sign of deep disgust, aimed at the rich merchants who despised her.   
  
Malger's voice suddenly turned cold, losing all charm and charisma. "You shall not speak to me that way, you pathetic orphan girl!" He brought back his hand, then flung it forward, hitting the girl with his opened palm. His print was left on her cheek, the skin reddening and puffing up.   
  
"I associate with who I want, and I see that a dirty orphan girl like you is definitely not good enough!" Malger shoved her back and she stumbled to the ground, sharp rocks piercing her burnt skin. She closed her eyes to hide her pain, and she refused to cry for the merchant.  
  
"Cry! I want to see tears wash down your pathetic little face! I want to see your pain! Open your eyes! Open them!" Malger kicked at her downed body, watching her wince, the sight bringing him pleasure. He smiled, knowing he was bringing her down yet again.  
  
"Stand," he commanded, his tone harsh and gravely. But she would not stand. Instead, she lay on the ground, her hands covering her neck and her body curled in a ball.  
  
"Stand!" Malger yelled and he kicked the girl in the gut. She doubled over, but shakily stood. "I'll teach you to listen to your superiors!" He grabbed the long, tangled, raven hair that hung down her shoulders and threw her body into one of the poles holding up his booth. The poles shook, but the fish didn't topple. The Chartered wood stayed strong, and the protected fish barely moved.  
  
The girl slid down the pole in a heap, laying at Malger's feet. She hated being there, as if she were laying at his command, but she couldn't move. The man, stronger than what his image portrayed, lifted her small frame over his shoulders, only to throw her back to his feet. She let out a painful cry, still holding back the tears and shielding her pain.   
  
A group of five women walked into the market, baskets in hand and chatting happily. At first, their conversation held their eyes away from the orphan girl and Malger, but an outspoken young maid finally yelled to the market.   
  
Her friends began screaming, their shouts alerting the other merchants and their customers. People began yelling, the chaos overwhelming some so soon. Those who did not know what was going on hid, the rest moving in to see the battered orphan girl.   
  
Up the street walked a man, his entourage behind him, the clothing naming him rich. He laughed, a smile playing upon his lips, and his men trailed behind, laughing also. They were oblivious to the orphan and to Malger, who was quickly telling of the girl's thievery.  
  
"She tried to steal from me, a raw fish! She snuck up while I was talking to my friend Lakin, the jewel merchant beside me. As I was talking, she ducked into my booth and tried to steal my precious fish! I caught her just in time right here and punished her for her crime!" Malger shouted, standing on a wooden stool to be seen.   
  
The people abandoned the orphan to hear move of Malger's bravery. He began tell the tale of her punishment, just as the rich man and his friends walked up to them. "She tried to run, but I grabbed her. She was small and thin, so I could hold her easily. I -"  
  
"What is going on here?" boomed a male's teenage voice. He'd already struck manhood, his voice deep, but it still carried a hint of a child's. He stopped walking, stared at the limp orphan and eyed Malger.   
  
"She was a thief, sir," Malger said confidently.   
  
"And what was the merchandise she stole?"  
  
"One of my rare and precious fish, sir."  
  
"Where is this fish?" the young man asked doubtfully. He wore a rimmed hat, both to shade his eyes and to hide his identity.   
  
"Well, sir, I-" Malger began to stutter, the stole good nowhere to be seen. He looked to Lakin for help, but the jewel merchant was obviously amused. He felt little remorse in letting Malger burn, the greedy man needed to be dealt with.   
  
"That's what I thought," said the man, and he crossed his arms. "Tell us the real story, fish man."  
  
"Sir, I-"  
  
"Now." His voice held such authority that Malger's knees knocked together. A tinge of red crept into Malger's cheeks, and suddenly, his voice became squeaky and high pitched, unlike his deep, confident voice before. Lakin's smile broadened. Malger was being put on the spot, and even his quick mind couldn't save him now.  
  
"It's nothing, really, sir. She'll be fine. Look at her!"  
  
The rich man turned to the orphan girl, who was slumped still at the post, her lips bleeding, her torso bright red as well. Her head was leaned back against the pole, and she seemed unconscious.   
  
"This girl needs medical care. I do not believe she is 'okay'. I want the whole story, and I want it now." The man glared at Malger, and the weak merchant began to stutter.  
  
"Sir, who are you to act as you do? What authority do you have over us?" Malger mustered up all the courage he could get, and he spat the words with what seemed like pride.  
  
The man uncrossed his arms, and whipped off his hat. He revealed his face for the first time, the face of the Old Kingdom's prince. The crowd gasped, and Malger's face went pale. He dropped to his knees and immediately started begging for forgiveness.   
  
"Enough! None of your pleas for forgiveness. I want to know what happened here." The people looked around to each other, but only Lakin knew the truth. He stepped forward, his grin now a subtle smile.  
  
"I know what happened, Your Highness. If you'll allow me to explain," Lakin said, bowing to the Prince.   
  
"May I inquire you name, merchant?"  
  
"My name is Lakin and I am a jewel merchant."  
  
"Do tell then. This stuttering fool will not produce any legitimate words. Go on."  
  
"Prince Daman, Malger here tried to seduce the orphan girl. She turned him down, holding true to her values. Malger got upset and smacked the poor girl. See his print on her cheek still? Then he shoved her to the ground, and kicked at her until she stood. He threw her against one of the poles, and she slid down to the ground. He picked her up then, and threw her back to the dirt. She was no thief, just an innocent young orphan."  
  
"Thank you, Lakin. Guards, take this man here away. I want him sent to the Council of Belisaere. Herim, come and help me with the girl. Everyone else, go about your own businesses." Prince Daman rushed to the girl's side, Herim, his medical doctor, staying at his side. Daman touched the girl's burnt skin, feeling the flames leap into his fingertips.   
  
"What do you think Herim?"  
  
"Concussion. Multiple wounds. She'll scar. Bruised, probably. Very malnourished." Herim lifted the girl's head, and she appeared to be sleeping. "I need my tools aboard the ship to tell exactly what's injured."  
  
"Then we'll take her aboard the ship. She can stay until she heals."  
  
"Okay, that sounds… DAMAN! You cannot bring a stranger aboard the royal ship! What if this is a trap? She could be a, a spy! She could -"  
  
"Herim, she needs help. We'll just remain quiet so she cannot retain any information."  
  
"Daman, I do not like this. She could be an Ancelstierrian! Their technology could be finding out about the Old Kingdom's magic."  
  
"Their technology does not work in the Kingdom, Herim, and they do not believe in magic outside the Perimeter."  
  
"I still do not like this, Prince Daman."  
  
"Herim, she needs your help. She may be injured for life without you. Please Herim. Just until she's well."  
  
Herim sighed, and finally gave in. "Daman, if this leads to any trouble, I will not be help responsible!"  
  
"Yes, Herim. I am old enough to take responsibility for my actions. Now, please, can you build a makeshift stretcher? I must find the rest of the men."  
  
Herim looked after the Prince as he walked away. He was a young prince, only 19, but he had the wisdom of a grown man. Herim stood, grumbling to himself as he ripped the strong canvas from the fish merchant's booth, and he quickly fastened it to two strong, wooden poles. The old man was nimble, and a lot stronger than his frail body looked. He moved the girl's body to the stretcher, laying her unconscious body straight. He stood, and waited, several minutes later, for Daman to come back.  
  
Herim stood guard over the orphan's body. He ignored curious stares, and the gloating Lakin, who was now the hero. He could hear the merchant's bragging, and could see the look of loving attention.   
  
"I told him not to do it. Malger had been eyeing the orphan all day. He wanted her to come back to his ship, but she refused. And that's when he attacked her. He was mad that someone didn't want to be with him, and now look at the poor girl!"  
  
Herim ignored Lakin, or tried to ignore the boisterous talk. From the harbor, he could see Daman and his men approaching slowly. Finally, several minutes later, they arrived. Malger had been delivered to the Council, and now they were ready to board. Two of the men, Hashir and Monlang, grabbed the stretcher's ends carefully, holding the limp body just feet from the ground.   
  
Prince Daman led the small procession towards the harbor, where his ship, Astecia, was anchored. He as well ignored the looks from curious onlookers, and walked silently to his ship.   
  
He and his men walked Hashir and Monlang to a free room on the ship for the orphan. Daman dismissed all but Herim from the room, and he locked the door behind them. Herim was already at work when he turned around, and Daman sat beside where the girl lay. For the first time, he noticed the dirt, the blistered feet, and the tangled hair. She would need a good bath, but he would make sure she was cleansed by a female.  
  
He noticed something else too, something he wondered why a young man his age would overlook. She was a beautiful young woman with emerald eyes, he noticed as Herim looked into them. There were sparks of yellowed fire floating around in them, unlike anything he had ever seen. Her cheekbones were perfectly arched, setting off her face as one of a kind. The raven color of her hair was familiar. It looked like his mother's, but at the same time, it was entirely different. Her frail frame showed bone, and he knew she hadn't ate in days.   
  
Daman took one last look at her face, her body laying unmoving on the bed. He stood up, leaving Herim to his work, and unlocking the door, walked out into the bright Belisaere day.   
  
  
  
A/N: CLIFFHANGER! Don't you love me? ^.^ Anywhoo, tell me what you think, what I need to change. Remember, this is 16 years AFTER the events in Abhorsen. Please review!!! 


	3. Chapter Two

A/N: Tell me if I've overlooked any details from the Trilogy. (Thanks Kasey!!!) I don't have all three books with me, so I can't consult them. PLEASE point them out to me!! E-mail me at weepingdreamer08@yahoo.com or just put them in a review!  
  
Disclaimer: The characters in the Old Kingdom trilogy are still Garth Nix's. ::crosses arms in disappointment and sulks:: But the plot and the new characters are mine! =D (Though I really don't know what the plot shall be anymore, for it has been derailed by a truck load of very minor details.)  
"Any signs of improvement, Herim?" a voice asked through her dreams. It was a comforting voice, soft, deep, and warm. She wanted to wrap herself in it, and fall back into a dreamless sleep.  
  
"She's still asleep, Master. Her wounds are healing quite nice, the bruises gone and the swelling down. She's still asleep though. Hasn't awoke in three days, even with the help of the Charter" the old doctor replied. He wanted the girl to wake up. He didn't approve of a stranger aboard the royal ship. Daman seemed blind to the danger.  
  
"She'll wake up, Herim. Give her time to heal more."  
  
"Yes, I know, Master. But I still don't approve of her aboard the royal ship. She'll have to go as soon as possible, Daman!"  
  
The girl took in the conversation with closed eyes. Wounds? Royal ship? Three days? Why would she be dreaming of this? Or better yet, why would she be living this?  
  
She stirred, and to them, it appeared in sleep. Then, she remembered. She felt the scabs on her sides and her back protest to the moving. She winced and tried to lift her head. It objected, so it lay still on the pillow. She opened her eyes, blinded by the brightness.  
  
In front of her were two faces. One was an old man, wrinkles lining his tanned leather skin. His long white hair was tied at the back of his neck, and he was dressed well. The man beside him was dressed well also. He was younger, his face tanned but not as weathered. He was handsome, his sandy hair smooth and a smile danced on his lips. She felt as if she'd seen him before, but she couldn't quite place him.  
  
"Hello," the younger one said cheerfully. "Are you feeling okay?"  
  
She tried to speak, but found her throat dry and scratchy. The old man dipped a ladle into a bucket of water, and he handed it to her carefully. She drank the sweetness quickly, then begged for more. She devoured the second one just as quick and was finally able to speak, her vocal cords ready for exercise.  
  
"I am fine, yes. Thank you. Have you been taking care of me?" she asked the younger one. Her chuckled, and shook his head.  
  
"Herim here is the doctor. You should be thanking him," he gestured to his old friend, and she nodded her thanks to him.  
  
"I am Daman, and as you know, Herim is the doctor. Do you have a name, miss?"  
  
"Beyln. My name is Belyn."   
  
"Belyn. Very pretty. Suits your image." The girl blushed, and she turned away. "We'll need to return you to your family, Belyn. They'll probably be waiting for you."  
  
"I have no family." Belyn hung her head, prepared from them to taunt her. She was prepared not to cry, not to let them see her hurt. If only she would've done better with that merchant…  
  
"Oh," Daman's eyes fell, and he seemed embarrassed. Herim, seeing his master's distress, quickly covered for him.  
  
"Miss, do you mean you have no family, or you're just on your own?" Herim asked, his face taking on a softer light.   
  
Belyn raised her head in defiance. "I have no family, sir. I have been alone since the orphanage let me go when I was nine. I do not know if they are alive or not."  
  
"How old are you now?" Herim asked, his voice reaching out to embrace her, to wipe away her tears and take away her shame.  
  
"I believe I am 16. My birth date is unknown, just estimated." Daman's attention span became wider, as any young man's would.  
  
Just then, there was a knock at the door. It was Herim's granddaughter, the woman hired to see to the orphan. She wore a simple brown dress and a hood over her head. Her long brown hair was tucked beneath it's confines, revealing only her eyes.   
  
"Hello, Sara," Herim said, greeting his granddaughter with a warm hug. She smiled over his shoulder to Daman, a cat like smile that carried an obvious hint. Daman looked away, his cheeks warming with heated blood. From the bed, Belyn saw the smile and wondered their relationship.   
  
"Sara, this is Belyn. You can finally be introduced properly." Herim led the young maid to Belyn's side, where she sat opposite to Daman. He stood up, a little too quickly, and Sara, though hurt, turned her attention to Belyn.  
  
The two chatted easily, but Belyn's answers were short, for her throat had grown dry again. Sara poured a ladle of water down her throat knowingly, and the girl smiled back her thanks.  
  
Daman and Herim excused themselves as Sara began to prepare a large tub with hot water. Belyn lay back in the warm bed, resting while Sara worked.   
  
  
  
Daman leaned against his ship's rail, breathing in the sea's air. He loved the sea, the smell of its salts and the rocking of its gentle waves. He loved the protection it offered from the Dead and their wrath. Nothing Dead could touch him here, and only here he felt safe.   
  
Daman, much like his Uncle Sameth, despised Death. Sam, years earlier, had discovered that he was not the Abhorsen-in-Waiting, rather a Wallmaker. Lirael was Sam's aunt, and she was the true Abhorsen-in-Waiting then. Now, she was the Abhorsen. Sabriel was older now and had long ago given up her claim to the title of Abhorsen. Though she still let her bells ring, they lay dormant for most of the year. She mourned now, over the loss of her King, Touchstone. Touchstone had been the Old Kingdom's greatest King in years, protecting them from Ancelstierre's prying. But, he had been killed by an a stray bullet from an Ancelstierrian gun when Daman was just a young child. He remembered only vaugely his grandfather, and the only image he could recall was the painting hung in Sabriel's bedroom.  
  
Sameth still kept the pipes his Aunt Lirael, Sabriel's sister, had given him. He used them from time to time, only to help the Abhorsen, but like his mother's bells, they too lay dormant. Sam still worked in his shed by the castle, and it had expanded from the tiny little shack to accommodate the Wallmaker. He'd fashioned a golden hand for Lirael, giving her her last name: Goldenhand.   
  
Sanar and Ryelle still Saw with the Clayr. Their long blonde hair was streaked with gray, and their bodies not as nimble. Kibeth still remained in Death, much to Lirael's dismay. She missed her furry friend and was often caught holding the soapstone statue. Yrael had taken on Mogget's cat form again, and was seen a few times keeping guard of the castle.   
  
Lirael had married Nick. He was learning Charter Magic, and was accepted because of the mark Kibeth had given him. They led a happy life - Nick as a scientist and Lirael as the Abhorsen. They made quite a pair, with her advanced abilities with her Magic and his brilliant mind. Lirael's job gave her no time to bear children, so she and Nick lived alone.  
  
Ellimere, his mother, had become Queen after Touchstone died. Sabriel refused to rule the Kingdom without her husband, and had handed down her reign to her daughter. Ellimere was a young Queen, but one of the Kingdom's best. Within a year of becoming the Queen, she had met a merchant who traded with the Clayr on a visit to the Glacier. His name was Gregory, and he and Ellimere lived and ruled together happily with a son and two daughters  
  
Daman sat thinking about the past 16 years. He and his sisters often wondered who would be the Abhorsen-in-Waiting. Daman hoped it wasn't he, often wishing to be a Wallmaker like his Uncle Sam. He stood up from the railing, and turned around. He rested his hands on the rail, and leaned forward. The wind blew in his face, rushed through his loose clothing and rustled his hair.   
  
Daman lifted his chin in defiance. He'd seen the shame on Belyn's face, and had heard it in her voice. Daman wished now to shared his confidence with her, what little he seemed to possess compared to his sisters. He vowed he would help her find her family, or at least what remained of them, preserved in history. He would wait until morning to set sail, but then his journey would begin.   
A/N: I know, it's short. Very short, compared to the last chapter. I may change it, if I like my other idea for this chapter better. I'm going to think about it, and edit it. Please review, tell me what I can change or tell me any details from the Trilogy that I've overlooked!!! 


	4. Chapter Three

A/N: Tell me if I've overlooked any details from the Trilogy. (Thanks Kasey!!!) I don't have all three books with me, so I can't consult them. PLEASE point them out to me!! E-mail me at weepingdreamer08@yahoo.com or just put them in a review!  
  
Disclaimer: The characters in the Old Kingdom trilogy are still Garth Nix's. ::crosses arms in disappointment and sulks:: But the plot and the new characters are mine! =D (Though I really don't know what the plot shall be anymore, for it has been derailed by a truck load of very minor details.)  
"Any signs of improvement, Herim?" a voice asked through her dreams. It was a comforting voice, soft, deep, and warm. She wanted to wrap herself in it, and fall back into a dreamless sleep.  
  
"She's still asleep, Master. Her wounds are healing quite nice, the bruises gone and the swelling down. She's still asleep though. Hasn't awoke in three days, even with the help of the Charter" the old doctor replied. He wanted the girl to wake up. He didn't approve of a stranger aboard the royal ship. Daman seemed blind to the danger.  
  
"She'll wake up, Herim. Give her time to heal more."  
  
"Yes, I know, Master. But I still don't approve of her aboard the royal ship. She'll have to go as soon as possible, Daman!"  
  
The girl took in the conversation with closed eyes. Wounds? Royal ship? Three days? Why would she be dreaming of this? Or better yet, why would she be living this?  
  
She stirred, and to them, it appeared in sleep. Then, she remembered. She felt the scabs on her sides and her back protest to the moving. She winced and tried to lift her head. It objected, so it lay still on the pillow. She opened her eyes, blinded by the brightness.  
  
In front of her were two faces. One was an old man, wrinkles lining his tanned leather skin. His long white hair was tied at the back of his neck, and he was dressed well. The man beside him was dressed well also. He was younger, his face tanned but not as weathered. He was handsome, his sandy hair smooth and a smile danced on his lips. She felt as if she'd seen him before, but she couldn't quite place him.  
  
"Hello," the younger one said cheerfully. "Are you feeling okay?"  
  
She tried to speak, but found her throat dry and scratchy. The old man dipped a ladle into a bucket of water, and he handed it to her carefully. She drank the sweetness quickly, then begged for more. She devoured the second one just as quick and was finally able to speak, her vocal cords ready for exercise.  
  
"I am fine, yes. Thank you. Have you been taking care of me?" she asked the younger one. Her chuckled, and shook his head.  
  
"Herim here is the doctor. You should be thanking him," he gestured to his old friend, and she nodded her thanks to him.  
  
"I am Daman, and as you know, Herim is the doctor. Do you have a name, miss?"  
  
"Beyln. My name is Belyn."   
  
"Belyn. Very pretty. Suits your image." The girl blushed, and she turned away. "We'll need to return you to your family, Belyn. They'll probably be waiting for you."  
  
"I have no family." Belyn hung her head, prepared from them to taunt her. She was prepared not to cry, not to let them see her hurt. If only she would've done better with that merchant…  
  
"Oh," Daman's eyes fell, and he seemed embarrassed. Herim, seeing his master's distress, quickly covered for him.  
  
"Miss, do you mean you have no family, or you're just on your own?" Herim asked, his face taking on a softer light.   
  
Belyn raised her head in defiance. "I have no family, sir. I have been alone since the orphanage let me go when I was nine. I do not know if they are alive or not."  
  
"How old are you now?" Herim asked, his voice reaching out to embrace her, to wipe away her tears and take away her shame.  
  
"I believe I am 16. My birth date is unknown, just estimated." Daman's attention span became wider, as any young man's would.  
  
Just then, there was a knock at the door. It was Herim's granddaughter, the woman hired to see to the orphan. She wore a simple brown dress and a hood over her head. Her long brown hair was tucked beneath it's confines, revealing only her eyes.   
  
"Hello, Sara," Herim said, greeting his granddaughter with a warm hug. She smiled over his shoulder to Daman, a cat like smile that carried an obvious hint. Daman looked away, his cheeks warming with heated blood. From the bed, Belyn saw the smile and wondered their relationship.   
  
"Sara, this is Belyn. You can finally be introduced properly." Herim led the young maid to Belyn's side, where she sat opposite to Daman. He stood up, a little too quickly, and Sara, though hurt, turned her attention to Belyn.  
  
The two chatted easily, but Belyn's answers were short, for her throat had grown dry again. Sara poured a ladle of water down her throat knowingly, and the girl smiled back her thanks.  
  
Daman and Herim excused themselves as Sara began to prepare a large tub with hot water. Belyn lay back in the warm bed, resting while Sara worked.   
  
  
  
Daman leaned against his ship's rail, breathing in the sea's air. He loved the sea, the smell of its salts and the rocking of its gentle waves. He loved the protection it offered from the Dead and their wrath. Nothing Dead could touch him here, and only here he felt safe.   
  
Daman, much like his Uncle Sameth, despised Death. Sam, years earlier, had discovered that he was not the Abhorsen-in-Waiting, rather a Wallmaker. Lirael was Sam's aunt, and she was the true Abhorsen-in-Waiting then. Now, she was the Abhorsen. Sabriel was older now and had long ago given up her claim to the title of Abhorsen. Though she still let her bells ring, they lay dormant for most of the year. She mourned now, over the loss of her King, Touchstone. Touchstone had been the Old Kingdom's greatest King in years, protecting them from Ancelstierre's prying. But, he had been killed by an a stray bullet from an Ancelstierrian gun when Daman was just a young child. He remembered only vaugely his grandfather, and the only image he could recall was the painting hung in Sabriel's bedroom.  
  
Sameth still kept the pipes his Aunt Lirael, Sabriel's sister, had given him. He used them from time to time, only to help the Abhorsen, but like his mother's bells, they too lay dormant. Sam still worked in his shed by the castle, and it had expanded from the tiny little shack to accommodate the Wallmaker. He'd fashioned a golden hand for Lirael, giving her her last name: Goldenhand.   
  
Sanar and Ryelle still Saw with the Clayr. Their long blonde hair was streaked with gray, and their bodies not as nimble. Kibeth still remained in Death, much to Lirael's dismay. She missed her furry friend and was often caught holding the soapstone statue. Yrael had taken on Mogget's cat form again, and was seen a few times keeping guard of the castle.   
  
Lirael had married Nick. He was learning Charter Magic, and was accepted because of the mark Kibeth had given him. They led a happy life - Nick as a scientist and Lirael as the Abhorsen. They made quite a pair, with her advanced abilities with her Magic and his brilliant mind. Lirael's job gave her no time to bear children, so she and Nick lived alone.  
  
Ellimere, his mother, had become Queen after Touchstone died. Sabriel refused to rule the Kingdom without her husband, and had handed down her reign to her daughter. Ellimere was a young Queen, but one of the Kingdom's best. Within a year of becoming the Queen, she had met a merchant who traded with the Clayr on a visit to the Glacier. His name was Gregory, and he and Ellimere lived and ruled together happily with a son and two daughters  
  
Daman sat thinking about the past 16 years. He and his sisters often wondered who would be the Abhorsen-in-Waiting. Daman hoped it wasn't he, often wishing to be a Wallmaker like his Uncle Sam. He stood up from the railing, and turned around. He rested his hands on the rail, and leaned forward. The wind blew in his face, rushed through his loose clothing and rustled his hair.   
  
Daman lifted his chin in defiance. He'd seen the shame on Belyn's face, and had heard it in her voice. Daman wished now to shared his confidence with her, what little he seemed to possess compared to his sisters. He vowed he would help her find her family, or at least what remained of them, preserved in history. He would wait until morning to set sail, but then his journey would begin.   
A/N: I know, it's short. Very short, compared to the last chapter. I may change it, if I like my other idea for this chapter better. I'm going to think about it, and edit it. Please review, tell me what I can change or tell me any details from the Trilogy that I've overlooked!!! 


	5. Chapter Four

Disclaimer: Still, Abhorsen, Lirael, and Sabriel belong to Garth Nix. ::crosses arms and sulks:: Fudge buckets!  
  
A/N: You asked for it. This is JUST the beginning. I promise you, it WILL get better! I had to cut it short, or else it would be pages upon pages upon pages upon pages upon pages etc. long.   
Dawn had finally arrived, the bright yellow making the ship glow. The rays peeked through Daman's window, lighting the room with their magic, and they found their way to his eyes. The sun shone on his sandy hair, and it appeared blonde, and his tanned skin twinkled under the rays.  
  
Slowly, he opened his eyes, groaning at the sudden flash of light. He rubbed them, sitting up, blankets falling away from his bare chest. A shadow formed at his window, blocking the sun. He looked up, and Belyn was resting her hands on his windowsill. She was wearing a simple white, thin-strapped gown. Hazy light filtered in around her, lightening her raven hair and making her look like an angel. A smile played upon her lips, a mischievous smile for an angel.   
  
Daman smiled back, grinning at the angel who'd laughed in his dreams. Suddenly, though, the smile disappeared from her face. She gasped and ducked away, blinding Daman with sun. Looking down, he realized what it was.   
  
Belyn fell to her knees outside Daman's window. She covered her eyes with her hands, her flaming cheeks shielded too. She'd stared at a half-naked, maybe naked, man for the first time. Slowly, she uncovered her eyes, trying to calm herself.   
  
Daman chuckled to himself and pulled a shirt from his bedpost. He pulled it on, leaving it unbuttoned, and he moved towards the windowsill. He leaned out into the bright sunshine, and Belyn walked straight into him. Her hands rushed to her mouth, her pink cheeks turning red. Daman chuckled quietly again, and pretended to massage his shoulder.   
  
"Are you okay?" Belyn stuttered through her hands. Daman grinned, nodding, and dropped his hands to his side. He reached out for her wrists and pulled her closer. She came up below his shoulders on level ground, and now she was at his chest.  
  
She looked up at him with sparkling emerald eyes, and her skin melted with the sun's yellow glow. Daman laced his fingers in between hers and he looked down into her eyes. "I'm fine," he whispered. He brought his lips down her fingers, and kissed the tip of her index. Belyn's cheeks flush again, and she bit her lip. She'd never been treated this way genuinely.   
  
"Would you like to come in?" Belyn nodded and started for Daman's door, but she was held back by his interlacing fingers. She looked up at him curiously and a devious grin played upon his lips. "Come through the window."  
  
The window was low enough to sit on, and wide enough for her to lay straight upon her back. She removed her fingers from his, turning around, and sat down on the sill. She felt strong arms wrap around her waist, and she was lifted to her feet on the other side of the window. She turned in Daman's arms to face him, and suddenly felt very bare. She'd left the shawl on deck, and the dress she slept in showed more than she wanted.  
  
Daman hugged her close before letting her go, before the blood could rush through her cheeks once more. Belyn crossed her arms over her chest and sat down, at Daman's invitation. She sat atop his unmade bed, feeling his warmth from the night flow through her. Daman leaned out his window, asking for two breakfast trays to be brought in.  
  
Belyn felt something flow through her body, something she'd never felt before. She was nervous. She'd never dined alone with him, and she had never been treated so grand. She tucked her loose hair behind her ears, licked her lips, and let her hands fall to her lap.   
  
Daman looked down at her. Her skin was paling, thanks to an ointment Herim had given her. He long, raven hair was untangled, freshly combed and shiny. Sara had cleaned her up, from head to toe. Her eyes held something of a mystery, an unsolved past and unknown future. She was beautiful, and she was oblivious to the fact.  
  
She rocked with the gently swaying of the boat, and Daman was glad she wasn't seasick. His late grandfather, King Touchstone, was seasick, but it hadn't run down his family lines - yet. She bit her lip, and he wondered what she was thinking.  
  
Belyn could see Daman's smooth, tan chest through his open shirt. It was much too big for him, stretched and threadbare, so she could see past the thin cotton too. She forced her eyes away, and forced her thoughts onto other things. She was confused. She didn't know why she was so interested and embarrassed about him, it was something she couldn't explain.  
  
Belyn's thin frame was perfectly outlined by the white dress. Sara must have altered it to fit her so well. The chest dipped low and was tight against her chest. Her arms were wrapped around her waist, and she shivered. She was cold out of the sun. Daman went to her side with a blanket in hand, and she wrapped it around her shoulders. He let his arm linger on them, and he pulled her closer.   
  
"Where are we?" Belyn asked, breaking the ice.   
  
"We're nearing Aunden. We're heading for the Ratterlin River, and we'll start searching at Cloven Crest." The place was murmured in her sleep, so he and Herim decided to start there first.   
  
"Thank you Daman, for everything. Who knows what would have happened to me if you hadn't rescued me." Her bruises had faded, small tints of gray their only remains. She felt no pain, and felt better than she ever had, thanks to Herim's healing and Charter Magic.   
  
"And thank you also, for offering to help find my family. I am forever in your debt." Belyn looked up to Daman with a smile of thanks. She was ready to serve him forever, if only it meant being by his side day and night.   
  
"I can think of something to start your payment with," Daman said, and he placed his hand under Belyn's chin. Her skin warmed at his touch as he brought her lips closer to his. They touched, sending an explosive feeling through her body, and they melted softly together. Slowly, she moved her arms to around his neck, and Daman's around her waist, pulling her closer still  
  
A knock at the door sent them reeling for composure, and quickly Daman stood, his back to Belyn. She lifted her fingers to touch her lips, and she could still feel his warm lips against hers, and she could still taste the new taste of her first kiss.   
  
The door opened to a young boy who worked in the kitchens. He carried two trays in his arms, balanced delicately with both strength and skill. He placed them on the table that sat next to Daman's bed. With a salute to him and Belyn, the small boy walked away, shutting the door behind him.  
  
"You still owe me," Daman said as he and Belyn sat down. She licked her lips again, still savoring the taste of Daman in her mouth. She nodded slowly, showing nothing on the outside. But inside, she was exploding with fireworks.  
  
Belyn's food was pushed toward her as she unfolded a cloth napkin in her lap. Sara had taught her the proper way to eat, along with how to hold herself and act in front of gentlemen and the elderly. Belyn felt royal - she wasn't used to this kind of treatment. The plate before her held eggs and bacon, sausage and biscuit, and a sweet cake covered in a brown syrup. She played with it, wondering if she should it eat or not.  
  
"It's called a pancake. They don't taste that good without the syrup, but with it they're delicious. Try it, you'll like it." Daman watched her contemplate it, and he suppressed a laugh. He forgot that Belyn had lived on what she could find, and had never tasted the foods of the royals.   
  
"Where do you live?" Belyn asked, trying to strike up conversation. She picked up a strip of bacon and chewed, the tender meat melting on her tongue.   
  
"Uh, Belisaere." If he told her he was a royal, would she like him for that and not for who he was? He didn't think so, greed wouldn't affect her. But still, he wanted to make sure. But still, he wasn't lying.   
  
"What do you do?"   
  
"I make things. Toys, furniture, houses." Belyn nodded. She continued eating, but after a time of silence, she spoke.  
  
"Can I see some of them? Your toys, I mean, if you have then on board."  
  
Daman nodded, rising from his chair, finished with his meal. Belyn was done as well, and she pushed her plate away from her. He patted the bed, motioning for her to sit there. She rose, to sit back down on the bed. Though the warmth was still there, she shivered, and moved back farther into the warm confines of the bed.   
  
Daman knelt next to where Belyn's feet dangled. He noticed with a smile, even her bare feet were perfect, though dirty, and the perfection ran down to her toes.  
  
There was a drawer underneath his bed, made of strong, Chartered wood. It was deeper than the outside portrayed, and extended halfway through the bed. The room filled with the musty, suffocated smell of wood, the breeze blowing the scent around and outside into the sea's air. Belyn breathed in the pine scent, feeling it tingle the insides of her nostrils. She'd remember this day if the scent was all she could recall.   
  
Daman brushed her feet with his arm as he stood, letting the connection hold up to her knee. He held a wooden crate filled with many contraptions, colors, and sizes, but each a beauty she never thought possible of a toy. Each bore a Charter mark, each different in strength and job. He pulled up a chair and set the crate down in front of Belyn, and he sat down on his bed next to her, their legs meeting in an electrifying touch.  
  
Belyn picked up what appeared to be a small, yellow and red spinning top. She held it in her hands, gently gripping the sides, and she felt it transform into a tiny songbird, a pale blue creature with wings who sung of bright sunshine and warm summer days. It flew up from her palm, fluttering its wings against her cheeks. It landed on her head, amongst the nest raven hair, and sang it's song still. It ruffled its feathers in her hair, sending shivers down her spine and a giggle spilling from her lips.  
  
Another bird joined its friend, singing, flying, twirling around Belyn's head. This one provided the harmony voice, male and female, singing of a love song, a young love. Belyn sensed a quick beginning, then a downfall of feelings, and then up to glorious heights. The song ended with a happy trill, the hint of the beautiful destiny of lovers. Suddenly, the two birds became tops again, falling from both air and nest of hair. She let one final giggle sound, and then finally placed then back in the crate.   
  
Daman watched the girl's face light up with the joy of the toys. The light from the opposite window filtered in and around her face, framing the image of an angel with perfection. The white sleep dress glowed in the light, and Daman found himself looking for her wings. She threw back her head when she laughed, the long raven cape hanging from her head shimmering over her back. For the first time since she'd boarded the ship, he saw that she was truly happy. He smiled. She was happy with him, not with Sara or Herim.  
  
He stood, watching as she sorted through the crate full of toys he'd made. The smile never left her lips, the ones he longed to kiss again. He sorted through everything he knew about her, but he couldn't find a single flaw. Daman could feel himself falling, and he didn't even bother catching onto anything that flew past him on his descent. He felt like he knew her, every inch of skin, every thought inside her head. Something about her made him want to forget what he was and live a simple life with her. But, soon or later, reality would come racing back to catch him. He told himself, over and over, that it was too fast, too quick. He needed to get a grip.  
  
Belyn kept her head down, or tried to, though the happiness she felt playing when the toys brought her chin up, curling her lips into a smile. She was happy here, unlike she'd ever been. Her cheeks were beginning to flush from the thoughts rolling through her head, her hands starting to tremble. Try as she might, she couldn't remove them from her head.  
  
She felt a connection to him, a bond that went deeper than mutual trust. Almost as if she'd spent her entire life with him, their souls destined to meet, like, and love. She wanted to follow her heart, who was screaming, "Let go! Fall! Kiss him!", while her head tried to take a rational approach. Belyn didn't want to be rational, to be like herself, safe and cautious, with an ever-lasting guard.   
  
Belyn looked up, watching Daman, and at the same time, he looked up as well, his eyes never leaving hers. Their eyes locked and for a single moment they stopped breathing, blinking, living. Slowly, Belyn stood and Daman waited, and then they advanced on each other with slow, deliberate steps. . .  
A/N: Love me yet? I enjoy writing cliffhangers so much! ^^   
  
Please review - tell me what you think, and remind me of any itsy bitsy little details I've forgotten. 


	6. Chapter Five

Disclaimer: You guessed it. Garth Nix owns everything except for the characters I   
invented. Which, how really can you invent a person? I mean, besides my maginary friends, how can you… Why am I talking to myself?  
  
A/N: I'm sorry it took so long to write anything. Due to my recent re-obsession   
with poetry, I haven't written much on my fics. (Oh, please review them too! I've become a little down in the dumps with my poetry because no one's reviewed!) I'm started a book for a contest too, (Kasey set a goal for me. I'm now entering a contest by the end of this year. Thank you Kasey! Now I have a reason to write!) and I'll post that on fictionpress.net under Shayley Rae (that's my other pen name, read my poetry, and a few stories too!) Read it if you like when it's up, it may be called Secrets of Learning... or something like that!  
  
Anyway, I'm picking up where I left off. Romance, here we go. When you review (if you do, and I hope you do!) give me suggestions to help guide the story. I don't know exactly if where I want to take it is good, so as the reader.. HELP! (But I promise the little bits of romance will become chunks. I'm a romantic. ^^ Nothing R rated, I promise. Icky.)  
  
Daman pulled Belyn closer to him, one arm fitting perfectly around her slim waist. He added his other arm to squeeze her tighter than before. His arms seemed to be perfectly made for holding her, like two pieces of a puzzle that completed the picture. Her body trembled at his touch and she shook inside the confines of his limbs. A gale of sea air blew her hair from it's resting place upon her shoulders and down her back, twirling behind her like a cape. Belyn steadied her hands and laid them on Daman's shoulders, letting them slide to wrap around his neck.   
  
An angel, he thought to himself again. She's simply an angel.  
  
Belyn studied his eyes closely, taking in his every feature. She wanted to stroke his cheek, feel the soft smoothness of his skin beneath her own. She traced a thin scar down the side of his cheek, bumping over the ridges of the tattered skin. Kiss me, she said to him inside her mind, praying he could understand her. Please, kiss me.  
  
Daman could feel her breath against his cheek, the warm air tinting his cheek a sticky red. He brought one hand up to touch the bottom of her chin. He brought her closer still, until the tips of their noses touched. Daman tilted his head slightly to the side, and leaned forward. Their lips touched, shooting sparks throughout their bodies. Belyn's arms enveloped Daman's neck, holding him tight as though staying connected to him depended on the last strands of her life.  
  
Slowly they separated, staying together even after the kiss had ended. Belyn's first, it had been something new for her, thrilling her as her lips tingled from the taste of Daman's tongue. Her tongue felt like it was aflame, burning from the touch of another's. Daman had kissed many a girl, but his eyes stated him as dazed as Belyn.  
  
Belyn turned away from Daman, her cheeks a flaming red. She cursed herself for melting this way, hated herself for letting go of her holds. She hoped the Charter would forgive her for this one display of weakness. Daman looked at her, keeping his eyes fixed to her face. He bit his lip, savoring the taste she had left in his mouth, and he decided then he wanted more than a mere kiss.  
  
"Belyn, I - " he began, but she cut him off.  
  
"I've got to go," she said, and she hastened her walk as she hurried out the door..  
  
Daman watched her rush into her room, close her shutters, and lock herself inside the wooden walls, a prison for her now. He maledicted himself silently for moving so fast. He would wait, quietly, for her return.  
  
~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~  
  
Sara lay flat on her back underneath Daman's windowsill, listening in on everything said, every move made. Listening intently, she could hear the sounds of the kiss, Daman moving his hands over he linen dress Belyn wore. There was a whole carved in the wall beneath his window, she could see perfectly the events, along with hearing them.   
  
"Tramp," she said under her breath. How dare she kiss Daman? How dare she try and take him?  
  
Sara watched as the kiss ended, watched as Belyn fled the room with flaming cheeks. She smiled maliciously. There was no way Belyn could have Daman. Quietly she stood, just as Daman had turned his back to the window. She straightened up her dress and took a few steps back , then walked forward, as to appear she was just walking by.   
  
"Daman!" she called as she passed the window. He turned to her, and his frown deepened.  
  
"Hello Sara," he replied glumly.   
  
"What's the matter, Daman?" Sara asked, with a sugar-coated voice. Kiss me, just like you did her, you fool! she screamed, wanting to reach forward and press her lips against his.   
  
"Ah… It's nothing, Sara. Nothing for you to worry about."  
  
I'm worried alright. You kissed that tramp! "I understand," she smiled. "Um, have you seen Belyn?"  
  
"Yes. She just went into her room." Daman's frown grew to a scowl, and Sara knew it was time to go.   
  
"Thank you, Daman. See you later!"  
  
He nodded, then caught himself. "Sara!"  
  
"Yes?" she asked, cattily. She'd lured him in now, for sure! She smirked, hoping vainly to look attractive.  
  
"Take these to Belyn for me please." He palmed the two tops and handed them to Sara. "Good day."  
  
Sara smiled up and him and nodded, grasping the tops in her fist. She tried to crush them, but the solid Charter wood stayed strong. I'm coming, tramp, she thought, staring daggers into Belyn's door.  
  
~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~  
  
Belyn latched the door behind her, sighing heavily as she slumped back on it. She wasn't tired, no, she was ashamed. Daman's kiss still left its mark on both her lips and her cheeks. She found herself wanting to stay, wanting him to kiss her again. She tried to shake it off, but the memories were just too fresh in her mind.  
  
She stood up as her breathing returned to normal, and she straightened her linen night dress. The fibers had already been worn, and her excessive use of the garment had stretched them further. Across from her was her mirror, and she caught a gimpse of her figure before the wind tilted it back.  
Belyn walked forward, towards the looking glass, taking steps as slow as those she had used to get to Daman. More and more of her image appeared in the glass as she stepped forward, and finally she could see all of her upper-body.   
  
"Goodness, save the Charter," she said aloud to her reflection. "I look like the jades walking along the streets of Belisaere late at night."  
  
The dress was tight against her frame, exposing more of her figure than she wished. The cloth was damp with her sweat, the material wrinkled by Daman's body against hers. Her raven hair lay tangled now against her back, reaching, stretching, to her knees.   
  
Slowly she coiled her hair into a knot at the back of her neck, securing it with a single pin. She pulled the dress above her head and folded it to lay on her bed. She looked at the mirror again for a moment. In the glass stood her naked figure, and, embarrassed, she quickly covered her parts with her hands. She searched for a dress inside the bureau holding her clothes, and she fished out a pale blue one. She tugged it over her head and onto her shoulders, pressing out the crinkles, and rearranging it neatly, just the way Sara had taught her. Belyn stared at the night gown laying on the crinkled sheets of the bed and she picked it up, tossing it to the bottom of her chest, slamming the doors in hopes to erase the memories just made.  
  
"Belyn," she lectured herself outloud, "this is too soon. You can't be falling head over heels for the first guy who kisses you. Please, don't fall! Come back!" She bounced onto her bed, wrapping her arms around the legs she had pulled up to her chest. She burrowed her head in her knees. Tears silently streaked down her face, soaking her hair and puffing her cheeks up with the salty drops. They soaked the front of her dress, two puddles of ocean.  
  
She sat there, trying to talk herself out of jumping, contemplating both sides of the cliff. Here on solid ground she had pain, but no love, and mass holding her up. But on the other side, she could have a possible love, care, and someone to lean on. Falling in love. She'd never had any of that before.  
  
Suddenly, she heard a scratching noise a her door, and she looked up to see a thin metal knife sliding through the crack. The blade caught the latch and lifted up, and then the door swung out on its hinges. Standing in the doorway was Sara, and she held a smile on her face. She holding something in the confines of her left palm, and she reached back with her right hand to shut the door.   
  
"Good morning, Belyn!" she said, the weariness under her eyes not evident in her voice. Sara unveiled her hood, exposing her long, chestnut hair. It hung down her back, serving as a coat of warmth.   
  
"Good morning, Sara," Belyn replied. She sighed quietly and stretched her legs out in front of her, tucking the tearstains under the folds.   
  
The maiden approached her, and unfolded her palm out to Belyn. Inside were the two yellow and red tops. The Charter marks for music were now obvious to the naked eye, glowing from the recent use, planted in the rings of age carved on the wood. Belyn smiled, but the expression lasted only moments. The birds hidden inside the tops brought back the memories she longed to forget, memories from only minutes ago. She could hear their song played the back of her mind, and she shivered it away.  
  
"Daman wished me to give these to you. I do not to why though, Belyn, they're only spinning tops for children." Sara smirked as she spoke, laughing silently at the pathetic orphan she was being paid to tend to. Belyn did not catch it though, for her eyes were focused on the reeling wood.  
  
"Thank you Sara," she said politely. "Did you sleep much last night? You sound tired."   
  
"Oh, I had hoped it wouldn't be perceptible! I mean, I didn't think you'd be able to notice." Belyn rolled her eyes. She was as stupid as Sara believed. "As a matter of fact, I didn't sleep much last night. I was with Daman." Sara flipped her hair over her shoulder and giggled, and she forced a blush to her cheeks.  
  
"Daman?" Belyn asked, sceptical of the maiden's words.  
  
"Yes. We're very close now. Have you been with a man before, Belyn?"  
  
Belyn shrugged. She didn't know what Sara meant.  
  
"Oh, then you haven't. Belyn, I guess you're old enough to know this. It's when a man and a woman join because they love each other and want to start a family. I might be pregnant with Daman's child now!"  
  
Belyn lowered her eyes and stared at the quilt. Was Sara being honest? And did Daman's kiss mean anything now?  
  
"Belyn, what's wrong?"  
  
"He kissed me just a few minutes ago."  
  
Sara laughed. "That's why you're upset? Oh, Belyn, it didn't mean anything. Daman loves me, not you!" She flipped her hair again over her shoulder, and Belyn was reminded again of the jades who walked the Belisaere streets in search of men and money. Sara wrapped the veil around her head again and left only her eyes in the open.   
  
"I must be going, Belyn. I'll visit again in the afternoon. Summon me if need be. I must go to Daman now. Good bye!"  
  
Belyn watched her leave through the open door. Sara neglected to shut it as she left, and then she stood in front of Daman's. She knocked, several times in a pattern, and she wondered if her rapping identified her. She stood there, waiting, but Daman never answered the door. Finally she walked away from the door,   
swinging her hips to the eyeing sailors.  
  
Tears clouded over her eyes, blurring her vision. The frame of her door melted into Daman's, the colors of her patchwork quilt became a mass of sickly gray. Her own skin hazed a color of dreary gray, her raven hair indefinable in the sea of darkness. Rays from the sun glistened on the drops grouping in the corners of her eyes, blinding the darkness with light.   
  
I'm a pawn, Belyn thought, releasing a lonesome tear to bleed down her cheek. "I was just a toy for him to play with, to confuse. Why would someone as good and kind and caring as Daman want someone as poor and wretched and dirty like me? Curse him!" she lectured herself aloud, quietly.   
  
She sniffled, and rubbed her eyes clear of the salty tears. Her cheeks were blotched and swollen, her nose was red and runny, she knew. She shook her head, thinking of the only two men who had seemed to want to associate with her. First had been the hapless merchant, who had gotten her aboard this ship in the first place. Now Daman. She felt like the instrument of the Free Magic devils, used only as bait and toy.   
  
Belyn crossed her legs in front of her and sat straight. She wouldn't let anyone aboard this ship know she was hurt. She'd hold her head up high, just like in the market, and refuse to bow down to their idiocies. Belyn reclined back on the bed, resting in the pillows with a smile on her face. She would be charming and delightful to all who passed, and they would be naive to what she felt.   
  
A mask. A wall. Pride was an awful hard thing to swallow, even for an orphan.   
  
A/N: *Sighs* That was long. Well, long for 10:00 at night! I've gotta go to school tomorrow too. Oh well. I like this story! More of Belyn's dreams coming up, more of the love triangle as well.   
  
And again, sorry! This probably would've been up sooner, but I was gone for just about 4 days in all in Washington D.C. Great trip! All the memorials are amazing, and HUGE! The Smithsonians are cool too, but I only got to see 3. (Picasso was in the Art Gallery! Awesome!!) Ford's Theatre was itty-bitty, and it wasn't what I expected. The National Cathedral was GORGEOUS! I don't care if you don't believe in God, GO SEE IT! It's amazing!! Arlington Cemetery was cool too, but there are way too many little white gravestones for my liking. It was really cold, and the bus ride was LONG and we were rushed. But it was a great trip! (Especially cause my crush was with me a lot! ^^)   
  
Anywhoo, yeah. I think I'm done now! I'll try to get the next chappie up as soon as possible!   
  
Love y'all!  
Rae 


	7. Chapter Six

DISCLAIMER: Garth Nix still owns everything. Humph. *crosses arms* I wonder if he'll sell it for... uh, let's see... five bucks?

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Another one of Belyn's dreams. You'll find out more about Sara and Daman. Read on! Oh yes, and please review when you're finished!

__

A tall woman walked in the shallow waters of a winding river, wading with the waves just barely reaching her knees. Her breath was shallow as well, heavy, thick, and sharp on intake, and like a sigh of relief as she released. She inhaled as soon as she exhaled, as if trying to take in only fresh air, and never holding her breath. The expired air created white puffs that hung around her head, trailing behind her like a bride's train.

A bandolier crossed her chest, like a shield, and a sword sheathed at her side in a silver case. It was pulled open slightly, so she could defend herself quickly if needed. Emeralds and rubies lined it, embedded in the metal, sketching out the Charter marks she used most. They reflected off the black waters and shot prisms of light around the darkness. Raven hair hung down past her shoulders, draping down her back like a royal cape. Her skin was pale, pallid enough to act as a mirror in the night-like sky. Her stomach was rounded, a pregnancy due at any moment, and still she walked as if not burdened. Her long, nimble fingers wrapped around the mahogany wood of a tiny bell, Ranna. The water sloshed quietly at her calves as they cut through the water, but then her sure steps stilled the water as she placed her foot on the floor of the river. 

Death was the river she walked, and only cautiously she moved. The waters were bitter cold, but the woman seemed not to notice. She was Mayu, Abhorsen-in-Waiting, and she would stop at nothing. 

Behind her trailed a man, inconspicuously. He crept just as slowly and steadily as she did, and she seemed not to notice him. The water around their feet splashed lightly at the same time as they walked, with twin movements. 

The woman up ahead tuned into her acute sense of Death. She couldn't sense anything in the First Gate, nor the first of the Second. What was walking behind her was not Dead, just living, or she would've noticed him by now. 

Where is he? she thought, looking around.

She'd chased an attacker into Death, a Shadow Hand. He was hungry and merely looking for someone to replenish his dwindling strength, but didn't realize he'd chosen the wrong home. To protect her husband, Breish, she'd decided to banish him to the blackened skies of the Ninth Gate. However, he didn't seem to be close. 

Her movements slowed as she waded and her back began to ache, as did her narrow feet. Her hips had yet to grow accustomed to the extra weight of her pregnancy. Sharp pains jolted through her body, up her back and then down to her legs. The waters tried desperately to tug her down into them, but she wouldn't fall.

Suddenly, her legs buckled and she managed to sit on a jagged rock in the river. The man trailing her was evident now, and she scowled deeply as he picked up his speed and sprinted towards her.

"Breish!" she called, cursing silently. Mayu stifled a scream as her baby began aching to get out and she felt her water break, then watched it trickle down the rock's sides like a waterfall.

"Mayu! The baby! Is it coming?"

She nodded weakly. "What are you doing here? It's too dangerous for you!"

"I had to protect you."

"I don't need it," she said, crossly. She was too stubborn for her own good, Breish knew.

"I had to think of the baby then!"

Mayu struggled to catch her breath, taking in big gulps of air but feeling none of it reach her lungs. Her pain had increased, from her abdomen to her head.

"Can you walk?" Breish asked with uncertainty. His wife attempted to stand, but the anguish sent her back down. The rock jabbed into her, hard this time, and she cried out again.

"Come on then, I'll have to carry you."

"We're too far! From Life, Breish. We can't make it."

"You can't give birth to our child in Death!"

"Just go, Breish!"

He shook his head and reached for her. She tried to fight back as he lifted her in his arms, but soon realized her pac was faster than she expected. Breish's face lit up red with adrenaline and his legs pumped with a quick smoothness. She felt the coldness decrease, and the black became a lighter shade of gray. Finally, Breish had reached Cloven Crest. He ran nimbly to the Medicine Woman, weaving in and out of the townspeople, and the woman ushered him into her home. Mayu was lain on a bed made of stretched skins and the Medicine Woman, the Healer as she was called, unclothed her enough for her child to be born.

Mayu's clothes were already damp, and her shirt now drenched in the baby's fluids. She stretched her hands out to Breish, but as he approached her was pushed aside and out of the Healer's tent, the woman having said it was for Mayu's own good.

He waited outside in the sun. When it turned to darkness, he still lingered by the door, pacing, waiting. 

The scene turned black, as if all the lights had gone out in the middle of a moonless night. But then, just as quickly, the lights reappeared and Mayu lay propped up in the bed. Breish was dozing in the wooden rocking chair next to her, snoring lightly. 

The flap that served as a door to the Healer's home lifted, streaming sunlight around the silhouette that stood there. Breish woke up, rubbing his eyes, and then squeezed May's hand when his eyes had cleared. The Healer entered, carrying a bundle carefully in her arms.

"It's a girl," she said happily as she handed the baby over to her parents. He voice was coated with warmth and love and her age hadn't changed her voice from it's earlier stage, which surprised Breish. The Healer was an old woman, nearing an age too old for most. She still moved with youth, though wrinkles coated her face.

"She's beautiful!" Mayu whispered almost breathlessly. 

"What shall we call her?"

"Belyn. Belyn Amaya."

Belyn jolted awake, just like she had many times before. To her, this was nothing new, although she'd never had this dream before. And just like always, she surveyed the scene around her.

The sun was just now peaking over the horizon, lighting the sea and sky in brilliant pinks. The ship was passing a small town passing a small town and even though it was still early, people fishing along the banks cheered and waved as they passed. 

Strange, Belyn thought as she sat up. Had one of the sailors done something to provoke them? Shrugging, she let it slide. 

Belyn Amaya. Breish and Mayu were back in her dreams, she realized. Were they her family? Was that her real name? But Mayu was the Abhorsen-in-Waiting, she argued inside her head. She didn't know how she knew how Mayu wasn't yet the Abhorsen, but something told her from inside her head. She couldn't be related to an Abhorsen! 

Since the sun was already rising, she decided to surface with it. Belyn tossed back her blankets and swung her legs over the bed and planted them on the cold floor. She still hadn't gotten used to the chilly sea nights and she shivered in the stale morning.

As she stood, she could see Daman already on board, fully dressed. Her cheeks began to burn with a mix of embarrassment and rage. She had doubted Sara at first, but now she was believing to be true. She was spending more and more time with Daman, and had little left for Belyn's care. 

Belyn still couldn't believe she had been nothing to Daman. She was finding it harder and harder every day regressing back into herself, showing no emotions when she spoke briefly with him. Days had passed since they had kissed, and still the memories lingered in her mind. When they grew cloudy, she would bring out the dress she had worn that day and with the first glance, she would remember all over again. It was painful sometimes, but she needed to remember. She had to. She wanted to.

Belyn busied herself now with sewing. Sara had provided her with several finely woven rolls of linen, colored white, pale blue, red, pink, and lilac, but only after she'd taught the orphan how to stitch in delicate patterns. Belyn was making herself her own dresses, and she'd return Sara's when she was finished. She tailored them to fit her own measurements, and was creating the designs in her head. 

After she allowed herself to cool down, she sat a comfortable wooden chair and placed her dress on the table in front of it and she began to sew. Periodically, she stopped to test the sizing, but then she returned to her duties. She ignored most of the breakfast tray, and still hadn't touched the food delivered for lunch. The sun was beginning to set, and her diner would arrive shortly.

A string of giggles drifted in through her window, and she realized they belonged to Sara. Belyn's mind began thinking randomly. Was she with Daman? She had to see for herself. She had to see if it was the truth she was told.

Quietly, as if Sara could hear, she set her dress down and scooted her chair backwards, the two woods screeching loudly. Belyn paused, waiting to see if the giggles had been interrupted, but they still floated in to her ears. She tiptoed on bare feet out onto the deck, and she tuned her ears into the sounds Sara was making. 

The deck was sturdy, and did not creak as she walked. The boards had long since splintered, but the Charter marks in the wood protected her exposed feet. She had forgotten she was dressed still in her nightgown, too lazy to change after she'd awoken. The gown provoked stares from the sailors just like it had from Daman, but she didn't notice. Their eyes traveled with her and roamed over her body until she was out of sight.

She followed the sound of both Sara's laughter and her footsteps, and she wondered if she and Daman were just leading her around before going to his cabin. Belyn finally caught a glimpse of the man Sara was walking with, and his sandy hair matched Daman's. She felt her heart drop in her chest, but she stayed in pursuit. 

The couple turned off into hallway that led to the sailor's rooms. Were they keeping their relationship a secret and hiding? They entered one of the smaller cabins, which probably belong to one of the servant boys. The door fit loosely in it's frames and the boards were nailed in place with spaces between them. 

Belyn could see through the door without impaired vision, but she waited, her breathing shallow.. She trailed them this far now and she didn't want to blow her cover what little cover she had. She didn't even have an alibi. She inhaled deeply and peeked in through the cracks. 

The room was surrounded, with no windows, so it was dimly lit with a single candle that Daman had just sparked into life with a softly murmured Charter mark.. It cast eerie shadows around the room and she hoped hers wasn't evident. A single bed was shoved hastily into one corner, its covers still rumpled from the sailor's last night of sleep. A small dresser was pushed up against another wall, and from the looks of it, it had seen better years. A few articles of clothing stuck out from it's drawers and a fresh outfit lay on it's top.

Daman wrapped his arms around Sara, holding her just as tight as he had Beyln. At no matter what angle she looked, she couldn't seen his face. He'd buried it in Sara's neck after he had unwrapped her hood from around her head, letting her hair free. The smell of it's bath oils filled the air and wafted to Belyn's nose. 

Sara fumbled with the buttons on Daman's shirt, but finally got them free. They were kissing now, and Belyn tried to advert her eyes, but couldn't. She wanted to see Daman's face. Daman's chest was smooth and hairless, pulled taut over his muscles, just like she'd remembered. Sara pulled the garment from his arms and tossed it onto the floor carelessly. The floor was probably dirty and it would lose its whiteness. 

Belyn tried not to laugh, for the thought was strange in a scene like this.

Sara's hands roamed across his chest, covering every inch of it in her possession. She freed her lips from Daman's and began planting them over his chest, leaving the imprint of her trail to gleam in the candle's light. Daman searched for the fold in Sara's overcoat that hid the buttons. 

Sara never wore it, Belyn knew, unless her uncle was around. Herim was protective of his niece, so she was hid discreetly from the lonely, hungry sailors. Below it was a dress, an alteration of what Belyn wore now, except for Sara didn't sleep in it as she did. 

Daman found the fold and began unbuttoning as Sara went lower and lower on his chest. She pulled it off with some difficulty, then pulled her off her knees and up to her feet. Just as Belyn had thought, Sara wore a dress that hung too high and scooped too low. Daman's hands unlaced the dress as they kissed again, deeply. He pulled it slowly down her shoulders, leaving her back exposed. Sara loosened Daman pants.

Belyn closed her eyes as the dress slid down Sara's hips and Daman's drawers slid down his. She could hear them step out of the clothes, and then heard them stumble backwards. She opened one eye to see Daman facing her. 

She gasped, bringing her hand up to her mouth to stifle a groan. The man wasn't Daman, just one of the sailors. Suddenly, she felt very foolish and bolted from her place at the door. As she left, she could hear then fall onto the bed, it's creaking frame warning of it's demise.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: *Yawns* That's it for now!! It's Sunday night and I'm supposed to be in bed in seven…. Wait, six minutes. I've had this chapter halfway finished, but couldn't think of anywhere to go until now. Hope you like it, and as always, review!! 

I'll start working again on my other fics too, but I've been focusing on my own stuff lately, original stuff. I promise they'll get done.

Again, please review! Ice cream cones for those who do! (And I'll love you too!)


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